


Word of the Day

by Punk_Out



Category: Naruto
Genre: Kakashi's Hair Fixation, M/M, Pre-Slash, Silly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 08:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12477352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_Out/pseuds/Punk_Out
Summary: A series of unconnected ficlets based off of a series of prompts.





	Word of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> The rating, and the relationship, character and additional tags will grow and evolve as more chapters are added. Each with probably be unrelated, unless specifically stated otherwise.

Iruka had highlights in his hair.

It started as a small, offhand observation, a flash of sunlight on dark brown, one that revealed just a gubg if diversity in what Kakashi had previously assumed to be a strictly uniform colour. Unbeknownst to Kakashi, that was the beginning of an obsession with finding and cataloguing every shade that made up Iruka's hair.

And like everything Kakashi did, he approached his new self-appointed task with a methodical single-mindedness that occasionally bordered on reckless, a great deal of improvisation when his carefully laid plans went slightly awry, and the liberal application of the Sharingan.

The first attempt was during Academy hours, outside while the sun beat down on a gaggle (what was the proper term for a large group of children? Not a school, that would be just silly; a herd? A flock? A problem to think about another day) of six year olds who were just learning the art of knife throwing. He came away from the experience with three bone deep gashes, a plethora of nicks and scrapes, and a new propensity for flinching every time he came within five feet of a six years old. Additionally, he had decided that a large group of children was to be hence forth known as a 'murder.'

So. Mission failed.

Attempt number two was in the mission room, with Naruto gladly and obliviously acting the part of distraction. Unfortunately, Kakashi couldn't quite bring himself to near of secretly molest his students former teachers head with Sakura glaring at him over the missions desk and the speculative eyes of his colleagues turned towards him. He aborted half way around, choosing to cover his intentions with an admittedly less than graceful bail out of the window. 

On the plus side, he got close enough to Iruka that he could just see a faint hint of red where an unruly tuft of bang poked over his forehead protector.

Well, not a complete failure.

The third and forth attempts were sabotaged by sudden mission summons, the fifth by Gai and his bellowed declaration of a challenge, and the sixth, seventh and eighth by Iruka himself, which left Kakashi trying and largely failing to smoothly blend into the general population of the market place. As it turned out, sticking his hand into a pile of fish guts was not the way to go about unnoticed. He grinned at the elderly fish wife staring at him, held out the fistful of intestine, and asked for a bag, “for my dogs.” 

Thank god for the Ninja Reputation of Eccentricity among the civilian population.

As he turned and walked away from the stall, he caught Iruka's eyes, dark and narrow with the suspicion that had been growing with every near miss, suspicion that had probably been justified and written off as paranoia, suspicion that nevertheless was nurtured. When Kakashi first began to follow Iruka, the man was locked into a routine that had minor variations day to day. These days, he shook Kakashi as often as not, which, honestly, demonstrated Iruka's sharp instincts when it came to people. Kakashi wouldn't trust the sudden abundance of an acquaintance in his life either, especially one with whom he argued more often than not. And it was no mean feat to lose a determined Jounin on the hunt.

But each foiled attempt to play with Iruka's hair only served to fan the flame of Kakashi's curiosity.

“You really are just like a dog with a bone, Hatake.”

Kakashi paused in his latest scheme and glanced over his shoulder, body deliberately loose to avoid betraying his surprise at the new, unexpected presence. Genma lounged against the alley wall, hands in his pockets and senbon wiggling between his teeth.

“Excuse me?” Kakashi drawled, slouching in a particularly aggressive manner. A twitch of his fingers slipped the kunai he'd drawn from his hip pouch into his sleeve.

“Iruka-kun. You've been stalking him for weeks now. But no one knows why yet.” Genma casually pushed away from the wall, kept his non-threatening posture as he strolled past Kakashi onto the street. “We all have our theories but here's a word of advice; Iruka likes direct, always has. Whatever it is, you'll get it easier if you just talk to him.”

Hmm.

Genma shot a wave of parting over his shoulder, but Kakashi was already gone.

***

It was nearly midnight when Iruka was forcibly removed from his grading fugue by an insistent fist pounding on his door. Iruka knew this because, after years of disorientation, he'd finally gotten around to hanging a clock opposite the living room table. It was a gorgeous wood piece, all sharp angles and smooth curves. And bright orange. Which, considering it was a gift from Naruto, was to be expected. With that boy, you either got style or taste, but never both.

With a soft groan and popping knees Iruka pushed himself reluctantly up from the floor. It usually took a solid ten minutes of repetitive noise to break his concentration so his obnoxious late night visitor obviously wasn't leaving any time soon.

“Anko, I swear, if you've lost your keys again--” Iruka trailed off when, instead of a leering Anko touting her latest unfortunate victim, here to use his bathroom window to access hers in the building over, he came face to mask with Kakashi. The same Kakashi that had been stalking him. “Um...”

“Anko?” Even with three quarters of his face covered Kakashi managed to effectively communicate one raised eyebrow, which, what. “She has a key to your apartment?”

“Ah, no, that's not--” Iruka sputtered as Kakashi blithely slouched past him into his apartment and looked around. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Kakashi answered, blunt and unapologetic as ever. He picked up a little dolphin statue that Konohamaru and his gang thought would be funny to try and steal for a stealth assignment. Iruka had heard the commotion in the shop and gone in to investigate. He paid for the trinket and given all three a failing grade. Kakashi examined it with idle curiosity and plopped it carelessly back in exactly the same place. The silence stretched.

“Well, are you going to tell me what, precisely, has you invading my house past midnight after four weeks of unwarranted stalking?” Iruka asked (demanded), when minutes passed and no explanation seemed to be forth coming. He crossed his arms defensively when Kakashi turned one bored, grey eye on him.

“Six weeks, actually,” he said, turning to lean against the shelf he'd been investigating, crossing his (still bloody booted) feet at the ankles. “But one of those was passive; reconnaissance and research, so I won't hold it against you.”

“Wha--” Iruka tried not to get angry, tried to see past the insult into the compliment. But even though there was an inkling of grudging respect in Kakashi's tone, the casual dismissal of Iruka's abilities was much more prominent. Like he was surprised that it only took Iruka a week to notice that someone was following him.

“I have a request,” Kakashi continued before Iruka could muster a witty rejoinder, or a rejoinder of any kind. “I would like to touch you.”

“What,” Iruka said, and between one hard blink and the next Kakashi stood beside him with nary a crazy hair out of place.

“Well, your hair, to be exact,” Kakashi amended.

Iruka pinched the bridge of his nose, one finger tracing the edge of the scar and released one long, hard sigh, and just --

Gave up trying to follow Kakashi's nonexistent train of thought.

“You know what, fine, so what you like. But do it while I grade, and God above, at least try not to make a nuisance of yourself,” he groused, flopping down onto the floor, trying not to let a reluctant smile cross his lips when, in an uncommon display of enthusiasm, Kakashi almost leapt over the back of the couch to settle behind him.

Iruka woke up the next morning in a boneless sprawl on the couch, feeling more relaxed than the last three orgasms he;d had put together, hair a wild mess and with no memory of falling asleep. Iruka wiggled his toes, let out what was very probably an obscene groan and twisted his body into an indulgent stretch. He hummed, a warm, content noise, until he woke up enough to focus on the clock.

Late. Shit.

He may have been running late, but even in the flurry of papers he didn't miss the simple note that read,

7:00 PM

and was signed with a HenoHenoMoheji.

Even though his students broke three windows and started a small fire by the time he arrived, Iruka couldn't quite keep from grinning.

***

Iruka made sex noises. 

Now, Kakashi understood, objectively, that Iruka wasn't actually that much younger than he was and probably even engaged in his share of sexual activity, given how attractive the man was, but Kakashi had a hard – difficult, that is- time reconciling his students former teach with the man who had made such... appealing noises the night before when Kakashi was combing his fingers through that thick mass of brown, gleefully twisting chunks this way and that to compare and contrast before he was distracted.

So.

 

Before Kakashi had even put his first obsession concerning Umino Iruka to bed -rest, he somehow acquired a whole new preoccupation.

Admittedly, he thought as he carefully worked his way through Iruka's impressive and creative home ward and trap system, tonights exploration would hopefully glean much more... pleasurable results.

...

Hm. He'd have to work on his deliberate innuendo.


End file.
